Origins
by dancingqueensillystring
Summary: "The days and nights blend together in the room where they keep you. There is no light, except for when the door creaks open to let your next nightmare through and then you have your eyes closed tightly." You can't run from the past forever.
1. Chapter 1

**A new story I've been thinking about for a while now. Chapters will get longer.**

x

You are eight when the growing up starts.

There are whispered words never spoken and a woman fleeing in the dead of night and in the morning you wake to find that everything has changed. The house is quieter now, filled with shadows of memories you will soon forget and promises destined to be broken.

_Windows half-closed to let in cool summer breezes that smell of heartbreak and a loose sense of a failure that is not quite your fault. _

Your father seldom speaks of her and that fact itself tells you more than his words ever could. You know that he blames himself. And he knows that you blame yourself and the only things you know together are that you are both right and the knowing will never get easier. You never speak of these things aloud.

And sometimes when everything is dark and silent and the world is shriveling up in front of your eyes, you can almost imagine her.

But not very often.

Mostly all you have are the what-ifs and maybes and one day even those will be gone, tossed away with all the other silly childhood dreams and wishes.

And eventually all you will remember is the sound of a door slamming shut.

_You hear the ringing of gunfire somewhere in the distance and the boom of an explosion and the warm drip of red blood falling to the ground. Some might say its fate that is where you finally end up, but you've never really believed in fate, so you write it off as irony and move on. _

_You close your eyes and try to forget and are not surprised when it works, because your body's pain is nothing like the pain in your mind._

_Your memories hurt more than their blows and your words hurt more than the insults and questions they scream._

_And when you do finally fall to your knees you __get a cruel sense of almost pleasure in the knowledge that you are still better than them._

_But the lives you have saved and will save never quite even out to the number you ruined in that cold dark room, so maybe you are wrong in that belief._

You are covered in blood, some coming from the cuts and bruises and burns they have inflicted, but most is on your hands and in your eyes and in your heart and no matter how much you heal from your wounds and scrub at your body, you will never be free of it.

x

**Thanks for reading. Will update soon.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here is chapter 2. It's a bit longer. Hope you like it.**

**x**

_In the early morning light, when dawn has just broken and the sky is the color of a burning flame, when you have just woken from a world of dreams and nightmares, you can hear the echoing screams of the prisoner in the cell across from you._

_She is a young Israeli woman, innocent in all eyes but those of her captors, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time and sentenced to infinite pain and ultimate death because of it. She has dark curls, and darker eyes, but something in them is kind and you find yourself thinking of a long lost mother whenever you look to her. You never speak, but you are saddened when one day her body is dragged out of her cell and down the damp hallway. _

_To them, she is just another corpse to add to their count, a small victory working towards a larger one, but she is the last one you mourn in that place so she is special to you. After her, you can no longer bring yourself to care._

_It hurts too much and you have too much pain to deal with already._

**x**

When the men show up on your porch one August morning, you are not surprised, not really. You do not know much about your father's work in the Navy, but you know enough to understand it was dangerous and that every second he wasn't with you was another second he might be dead or dying.

At the funeral you listen closely to the hushed whispers of the men in uniform and vow to yourself that you will get answers, whatever the cost.

_And you would like to say that if you had known just how high the price of your answers would be that you would never have made that promise, but you have lied to too many people in your life to lie to yourself as well._

You are consumed by your quest and as soon as you can, you are shipped out overseas to distant truths and less distant violence.

If you were broken before, you are shattered then. Desert sand getting into all your cracks, as bombs blow up and as you watch not quite friends be brought down in a rain of bullets from men with dirty eyes and bloody hands.

You walk into a building one day with only a gun and a knife and a promise of almost certain death.

You walk out dripping blood that is not yours and concentrating very hard on thinking nothing at all. It is easier that way.

And you're not quite sure what exactly it is that you must find in order to end the search, only that it has not yet been found. So you keep going and are not surprised to find that it does not get easier.

**x**

You are promoted soon, superiors having long since memorized the look of someone with murder in their eyes. In this line of work, a killer is exactly what they need. The war they are fighting is one measured in body counts and liters of blood spilled and tears cried and they can use you for that.

And they try to hand you partners, brave men and women with courage and heart and dreams of protecting a country and a people they love with every fiber of their being.

_They remind you of yourself once upon a time, when there were three instead of two, instead of one. _

But they're not cut out for it, not matter how good their intentions and they never last long and after a while they cautiously allow you to work alone.

_And in your dreams you see the taunting faces of the ones who did not make it._

___whywhwywhywhywhy?_  


You are moved to another station soon.

**x**

_In the cover of the camp they ask questions you cannot answer._

'_What do you know?' they shout._

'_Who told you?'_

_You do not respond, even in your mind._

_After a while you cannot even hear them anymore, the sound of their voices overpowered by your own half-crazed screams. They look at you with something akin to disgust and leave your cell._

_And when your voice finally goes, you are still deaf to them as you listen to the crying that is only in your head. _

_You vaguely recognize that you are falling apart._

_And you would very much like to hate these men for all that they have done, and you know they deserve it, but you can only feel a sick sense of lofty pity that this is all they will ever know._

_The hatred will come later._

But while you are there the only person you can think of to blame is you.

_And there are harsh words and harsher blows and the thing that hurts the most is that you still haven't found your answers._

_That sickens you._

**x**

**Let me know if there's anything you don't understand and I will try to explain as much as I can without giving away anything major. Thanks for reading.**


	3. Chapter 3

**This is chapter 3. Please point out any mistakes you see or anything you're confused about. Hope you enjoy.**

**x**

Sometimes, when everything is haunting and dark and all you can think of is a grief and guilt from years past, you write letters.

They are carefully penned words, well-thought out sentences, describing in great detail just how their _son/daughter/sister/brother/husband/wife_ spent their last moments, telling them just how much of a hero their loved one was.

When you are done, you rip them up and watch them burn.

_There are whitewashed walls and clean cool floors and a __sickly sweet _smell of antibiotics and air freshener. Everything is neat except for you.

_People with fake smiles bustle around your room and men with no names ask you questions you are hesitant to answer._

_When they finally leave, you close your eyes and try to content yourself in the knowledge that while you have always been told that two wrongs don't make a right, no one has ever said anything about half-truths not becoming something real._

And one day you wake up after a long night of doing the right things for the wrong reasons and look to yourself in the mirror;

You find you have to look away.

x

In the months of the initial investigation into your father's death, the only thing anyone really knows is that no one knows anything.

You watch them work around the house, carelessly shoving your father's life under clinical headings and observations and theories and when, after months, they finally leave with nothing to show for their work, you are almost glad.

You are pretty sure you hate them then.

They question your father's drinking buddies for the night, a group of officers you know the names of and not much else. When they are all cleared and shipped out, you write them each a letter thanking them for their cooperation and honesty in the investigation.

You play the part of the innocent grieving daughter well and none of them answer.

And years later when two have died in combat, and one of old age and the last is alone except for a nursing home which feeds him but will never love him,

you still don't believe them.

**X**

It is entirely by chance that you happen across a small woman with knowing eyes named Hetty one day. You are in the thick of the desert on one of the missions you are known for, ones that come with many forms, and less backup and the promise of blood.

She pulls you out of a burning building and you are too shocked at the time to wonder how she could manage that with such little strength. It is years before you think to ask, and by then you are pretty sure you already know the answer.

She does not ask you questions and she does not look at you with pity in her eyes and she does not accept your thanks.

'You'll pay me back someday.' She says mysteriously.

Somehow, you know she's right.

**X**

_The first thing you do when you wake up in the hospital is ask for a dictionary. When you finally receive it along with many odd looks, you immediately flip to the word cruel and skim down to the antonyms. One in particular makes you laugh._

_Uncruel._

_If only it were that simple._

The people who you think might be your friends tell you how glad they are that you're alive and wait a breath for you to agree.

You never do and they can only blink and move on.

Most of the time, you're not too sure what your answer should be.

_And there are men who spit in your face and laugh in your blood and you can only think that whoever said anything about fine lines and love and hate was wrong._

_Dead wrong._

And in a shroud of darkness you wish for the things you will probably never get and definitely never deserve.

You are pretty sure you're bleeding.

**x**

**Thanks for reading.**


	4. Chapter 4

**ATTENTION! IMPORTANT NOTICE HERE!**

**I am having a bit of a contest. I'm struggling with finding a summary for this story that I like, and that I think others will like. So, I want you guys to help. Give me your summary ideas in a review or a pm and the one I like the best will be this story's new summary. The winner will get a chapter dedicated to them along with advertisement for their stories.**

**For example, if Sally won it might say in my author's note:**

**This Chapter is dedicated to Sally. Please check out her story called "One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish".**

**So, please submit your entries.**

**Anyway, here is Chapter 4. Once again, please point out any mistakes or things that confuse you and I will try to fix them or explain.**

**Also, it would be awesome if you guys would review. Just saying.**

**X**

_In this job, you occasionally feel like a small child playing dress up. You put on your mommy's best dress and heels and pearls and dance around the house playing make-believe in things that are much too big for your small frame. _

_Then, guns are fired and people die and you watch them fall as if in slow motion._

_And you think,_

_Maybe, they really aren't alike at all._

_**X**_

Mornings are when things are the worst.

When the world is hazy and unclear to your sleep-addled brain and the feeling of the fan blowing a hair across your neck can remind you of an unclean hand in the same place.

You feel your scars ache and you ready yourself for the crack of a whip, the burn of a cigar, the sting of a knife.

You hear, in the hum from the refrigerator, rasping voices in foreign tongues speak of death and destruction and your own demise and suddenly the blackened teeth and sour breath are not so very far away.

You turn off the fan and close your eyes and cover your ears and remember a time when things were simpler.

And you wonder what Nate would think if he could see you now.

Probably nothing good.

**X**

_Three shots are fired. _

_And in a rush of pain and surprise, you feel all three connect._

'_Hmmm,' is all you think before you lose consciousness. _

_It hurts more than you thought it would._

There are a lot of people in your life who have left you. Some by choice and some not.

Mother, Father, Ex-Boyfriend, Partner, Fiancé, Dom, and all the ones whose names you don't know

It's quite an impressive list.

_And the moments when they leave you feel like hours passing in a day or days passing in an hour._

_You're not sure which or if it even really matters._

**X**

For a while the team thinks your demons are limited to a mother that ran away and a long dead father whose death you cannot figure out.

Then one day, there are images of a young woman's corpse flashing across the screen, tortured and starved until she broke, and suddenly you just want to start running and never stop.

And the others must notice your pale face and quickened breathing, because you hear silence and feel Deeks put a steadying hand on your shoulder.

"You know her Kenz?" It's Callen who speaks, you think.

"No. It's just…not a pretty picture, that's all." And you focus very hard on taking deep, even breaths.

And you know that Callen and Sam are exchanging a puzzled look, and that Deeks is getting ready with a joke to change the subject, and that Hetty is fixing you with a pointed stare because somehow she knows.

But sometimes, it's easier to lie than it is to remember.

_And in the cover of the camp they ask questions you cannot answer._

'_What do you know?' they shout._

'_Who told you?'_

_You do not respond, even in your mind._

**X**

You cannot count the number of times you wish to be rescued, for heroes to come in, guns blazing.

But you find that there are no happy endings in this place or anywhere really and when you do finally leave it is with your head hanging limp over a stranger's arm and with no promise of something better on the other side.

And it strikes you one day that they weren't kidding when they said that life isn't fair.

_Story book endings and make-pretend games and what does any of it really mean in the end, __because its certainly not real and its definitely not the truth._

**X**

**Thanks for reading. I will try to update soon.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Here's Chapter 5. We're starting to get into the action now. Remember the contest, i haven't gotten any entries yet. Reviews are much appreciated.**

**Also, IMPORTANT NOTICE HERE!**

**I am participating in a month long writing contest called nanowrimo and because of this will not have a lot of time to update during November. I will try my best, but I also have exams coming up, so I advise against any breath holding. Also, please remember that my love is strong, so I will be back as soon as possible. **

**X**

_There are a lot of things you don't know._

_How to make the pain and the fear go away, how to forget, why bad things happen to good people_

_Why your father died_

_And there are probably a lot more, but those are the only ones that keep you awake at night._

And those are the ones you'll probably never figure out.

**X**

You are not surprised at all when Deeks is the first to ask.

Hetty already knows, Callen is much more subtle, Sam knows you'll tell him when you're ready, and the others either believe your lie or don't care enough to seek you out.

You're not sure which you prefer.

Deeks is your partner though, and he does ask and suddenly you're not entirely sure what you want to say.

But there are shadows in your mind and there is darkness in your heart and there is blood on your hands. You learned long ago not to tell people things that could hurt you.

You think of all the things you've done that you're not proud of and keep your mouth shut and your heart closed.

It's better for everyone that way.

**X**

"Agent Ryan was a good agent, one of us, but we have to remember that even the best can sometimes get involved in bad things. I'm not saying she was doing anything wrong for sure, just don't ignore any possibilities. The group we think might have killed her is not one we want to deal with without knowing the whole story. "

And the director is looking at you while he says this and for one horrifying second you think he is going to continue but instead he signs off with a good luck and a shadow of a smile

"Eric, what do we know about these guys?"

And you think about the file that Eric is about to pull up and find you must squeeze your eyes shut. You know what the team is about to see.

"Not much, it looks like. They don't have a name and besides the fact that they've left a very high body count wherever they go it doesn't look like we even have much to confirm they exist."

You let out the deep breath you had been holding in and try not to think about the fact they will eventually find out.

"Oh wait, right here. A while ago a Captain in the Navy made some headway with them. Doesn't say exactly what he found though."

_nonononono!_

"Sam and I are going to need to talk to him, Eric. Got a name and a home address?"

Hetty looks at you questioningly and slowly you force yourself to nod.

_It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay. It's all going to be okay. _

"Actually Mr. Callen, if you could hold on for just one moment. We have a couple of things we need talk about."

And then, you laugh, because nothing is going to be okay.

**X**

_The days and nights blend together in the room where they keep you. _

_There is no light, except for when the door creaks open to let your next nightmare through and then you have your eyes closed tightly._

_But you remember that sometimes they would come in, breath smelling of hard liquor and cruel thoughts, and point to the walls on either side of your cell. _

'_Choose.' They order and you do not listen and later they drag in the broken bodies of the two little children in the cells next to yours._

_You start choosing after that and though the body count is lower than it might have been, you never quite sleep through the night again._

And in your dreams you see the taunting faces of the ones who did not make it.

_whywhwywhywhywhy?_

_But you think, as a wandering hand creeps up your spine and rotting teeth bring themselves closer to your face, they might be better off dead._

You're pretty sure you would be too.

**X**

**Thanks for reading. I'll try to update soon.**


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